Saturninity
by Kimikashi1161
Summary: A silence, a dull roar, an open nothingness void of noise. A white space where your thoughts once lie and a lone candle burning on the sidetable.


A dim candle flickers in the corner of the room. There is no sound, nothing circulating the silence or deafening the darkness. The chilled wind outside whistles through the cracked window. Out of impatience, you stand up, walk over to the window, and shut and lock it firmly into place. Now it is truly quiet.

The darkness creeps over you, pressuring you into closing the curtains. You draw them shut, blow out the candle, walk to your bedroom, and proceed to snuggle under your blankets as the continued silence looms over you. A full emptiness. Who knew nothing could feel so unescapable and engulfing.

You are unable to fall asleep. Lifting yourself up, you take the phone off of its charger and check the time. Half past eleven, you think to yourself. The days don't seem to matter anymore; you don't count. What used to be an anxious and fulfilling life with awaiting surprises and optimism has now been reduced to an mute cry that no one will ever hear, ever.

A small gust of emotion spirals around your spinal cord as you feel your eyelids straining. You stand up and walk into your kitchen.

The house is still empty. Void of communication. The small yet irreplaceable provocation of speech is basically unpermitted, unlawful, bitter on your tongue; in a rude stillness, you open the far left cupboard and shakily grab a small glass. You drop it and it shatters on the floor. With no words, you lean down, slowly picking up the small shards of broken glass and placing them into your palm scarred with memories and physical inflictions.

A piece of glass cuts your hand and you ignore it. You continue picking up the larger shards of glass and throw them away in the garbage can. The rest of the glass is swept up with a broom. The air is dead.

You decide you are no longer thirsty and walk back into the living room. The box of matches rests on the coffee table. As you go to pick them up, you notice out of the corner of your eye, a shadow against the wall.

But, nobody else is there.

Turning around, you confirm that the shadow is being created from nothingness, and abyss of something; the shadow is very idenitfyingly a person, yet there is noone there to fill the void. The darkness is still as the numbness creeps into you. A match strikes the box, then slowly lights the warmed candle. In a hushed secrecy, the shadow moves from one side of the room to the other.

You feel agitation fill up inside of you. The iron curtain devoid of light and sound is creating noise and clamor inside of you, an unpleasant roar of emotion and static. You walk towards where the person should be, nearly inches away from their face. Slowly lifting your hand, you coat your rising arm in darkness and an unsettling reticence as you confirm that there is no one there.

"I know it's you. I know you are here."

A lack of communication follows.

"If you have nothing to say then leave me alone. I thought I was done dealing with you."

The inarticulation erupts into a calamity of sound and unreserve. The candle flickers. He appears before you.

"That's no way to treat a house guest."

"You're dead. Leave me alone."

You sit back down on your couch and turn your head in the other direction. You hear him approach you and you hear him sit down on the couch beside you yet you cannot feel his presence.

"What if I said I was alive?"

"I know you are dead. I cannot feel you."

"Well, what a shame. I guess I'll have to prove to you I am alive and then you will feel me again."

Your head turns towards his slowly, and you become almost blinded by his smile. God, you remember how jealous you used to be of his perfect teeth. With a heavy sigh, you stand up and sulk your shoulders.

"Okay, so, what? Do you want to create a ritual circle or do you just wanna have sex? I don't get it."

He chuckles, bearing a toothy grin. "You always were one to speak your mind." He takes your hand, but you feel nothing there. As you are dragged away by a sullen quiescence, he says, "Let's go on an adventure."

"An adventure? That sounds like something for kids."

He smiles wider. "Aw, come on. It'll be fun."

He leads you to the door. You stop in your tracks.

"Wait."

"Hm?"

"I...I'm afraid of the dark."

"Yeah. I know."

Your footsteps echo and you step outside. As you hold what should be a hand you can feel the moon become brighter, the stars becoming welcoming, the constellations wrap them selves around you. You can feel a strange warmth. Wiggling you fingers, you barely feel a presence around you.

Light illuminates the road as he guides you towards it. You stop again.

"I don't like walking. Where are you taking me? I don't want to go anywhere."

"Aw, yes you do. We're going on an adventure!" He tries to pull you along, but you resist further.

"No, I...this is not who I am. I don't like adventures, or walking, or trying new things. I am not who you think I am . I am different, I-"

"No." He interrupts you, which takes you by surprise. What used to be immature and content has now shifted into a serious expression. You pause. The wait is unbearable.

"You have...you have forgotten who you are. You _have_ changed. _You_ changed. Why did you change? Can you not bear to live in a world without me so you completely lose who you used to be in an effort to escape the pain, the loss, the grief?"

The bombardment of questions throws you off. Adjusting to the conversation, you try to add in a comment. "No, I-"

"No! No, you do _not_ remember who you used to be. After days and weeks and months of endless tears and anguish in the end you forgot what is was you were crying about and eventually lost yourself along the way. You have to find who you once were. I am dead! I have _been_ dead for a very long time, you have to realize this! I am dead!"

"_Shut up_!" you cry. An utter void fills the area again. You can feel his presence slip away. He tries to tighten his grip on you but to no avail. "I have not changed. I have _adjusted_. I am fine how I am, I am _fine_, I am _perfectly_ okay, and-"

"I love you."

You cannot respond.

"And if you loved me, you would realize I am right and you would listen to me."

Sour silence bites your tongue. Your words stagger and shake. "I...I can't accept it. I can't."

"Yes, you can! You _can_!"

"No, no, I _can't,_ I can't!"

"You _can_, you-"

"I don't_ want_ to accept it! I _won't_ accept it, I don't _want_ to accept it, you are not _dead_ you are _alive_! I don't _want_ you to be dead, I _want_ you to be alive! I wanted to go on more dates with you and hold your hand more often and make out with you in public and share a future with you and I don't want to let that go, I _can't_ let it go!"

You catch your breath, filling the lull.

You feel his presence again wrapping around your hand and around your shoulders. He embraces you tightly as your breath fades and your words become dust.

"I love you. Forever. And I know you will never forget me. Isn't that enough? You don't have to forget me, but you have to _move on_. Take a step forward. Cross the bridge."

You tighten your grip on what feels like his shirt. "It's...It's so hard, I...I can't do it, It's so hard to move forwards. You are gone and I feel like there is _nothing._ No matter what I do there will always be an emptiness in my heart."

"I love you, and I want you to move on."

"I don't want to live in a world without you. I will die and I will feel alone. I don't want to feel alone."

"You don't have to feel alone. When you are sad, I feel your pain. When you are happy, I feel your joy. I am a part of you. I cannot live without you, and you cannot live without me. But you don't have to live without me. Just because I cannot be seen does not mean I am not there."

You sniffle and scoff. "That was really cheesy. You know I hate it when you do that."

He chuckles again. "What can I say, I aim to please."

You swallow hard. "What will happen when I let go?" you ask.

A silence begins the response. "You will not see me again. For a very, very long time."

"So...this is it? This is the ending? No white stallion, no saltwater shore?"

"Sorry, this is it. This is your crappy ever after."

Muteness.

"I love you," you say. You flinch as you speak.

You are surrounded by peaceful irony as the only response to follow in a censored speechlessness.

The candle burns out.


End file.
